


Starless Ocean

by Morteamore



Series: Kinktober 2020 [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Bad Ending, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Eldritch, F/M, Kinktober, Lots of R'lyehian, Lovecraftian, Lovecraftian Monster(s), Pegging, Possession, Private Investigators, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:48:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26765323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morteamore/pseuds/Morteamore
Summary: Rhys is a private investigator, Fiona his partner. When a stranger comes knocking on Rhys' door one night, they're plunged into a world of mysterious circumstances and eldritch horrors that threaten to consume them.
Relationships: Fiona/Rhys (Borderlands)
Series: Kinktober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950712
Kudos: 5





	Starless Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kinktober prompts: Pegging, altered mental states, and voyeurism
> 
> My Kinktober list can be found [here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Eg43Xu4XgAASKUR?format=png&name=small)
> 
> I decided to do something different this kinktober and aimed to make each fic centered around a spooky or horror theme. Some will be just for flavor and atmosphere, others will have a deeper connection to the theme. Please heed the tags for each, since they paint a pretty good picture of how much that will factor in! 
> 
> For the duration of writing this, I listened a lot to the band Ghost to establish the feel of it. Mostly the album Prequelle on repeat, but also Meliora a handful of times. To a lesser extent, the album Time by Mercyful Fate also played a role.

It was late evening when the knock came upon Rhys’ office door. He’d fallen asleep at his desk, head resting against the thick stack of bills and books there. At the rapping sound, he jerked awake, almost knocking over the bottle of open rum that sat precariously on the edge of said desk. All the lights were off, the office swathed in deep shadows with the only light coming from the moon cutting through the slats in the blinds. He stumbled out of his seat, walking across the room until his hand was smacking against the standing lamp. There he pulled the chain, bathing everything in soft, warm light. 

The office wasn’t much. Just a couple of bookshelves, a threadbare couch, a few paintings on the walls, and of course his old, worn out oak desk. It was modest accommodations for his modest salary, and it suited his needs just fine.

The knock came again. Rhys wasn’t expecting anyone at this hour, but maybe it was his partner, coming back after forgetting something. Without asking who was on the other side, he unlocked the door and drew it open, only to find himself confronted by a tall, gangly man with short blond hair stylized into twin points on either side of his head. It made him look devilish, though the expression on his face was not one twisted into any semblance of evil. It was stoic, bland. His hands were out of sight, clasped behind his back.

“Detective Rhys Strongfork, I presume?” came the man’s dry voice.

“That’d be me,” Rhys said, trying not to chuckle as the alcohol he’d consumed earlier tickled his brain. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Why, yes, there certainly is. My name is Jeffrey Blake. I represent the Hyperion corporation.”

“The technological company? Please, come in and have a seat.” Rhys opened the door wide and gestured with his hand. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, that’s quite alright,” Blake said as he passed by Rhys. He walked with careful purpose, shoes tapping against the wooden floor. “I doubt you’d have a liquor that would appeal to my discerning tastes, regardless.”

_Kind of rude, isn’t he?_ Rhys thought to himself as he watched the man take one of the wooden chairs stationed in front of his desk. _Nothing I can’t handle, though._

“Suit yourself,” Rhys said aloud as he took his seat. The rum was snatched up, which he poured into a glass. “So, what can I do for you, Mr. Blake? It’s not every night corporate representatives come knocking at my door.”

“Strange. I was told you’re the man to seek out for company jobs. You don’t seem to mind dealing with the _bureaucracy_ as much as the rest of the P.I’s in town.”

“That would be true enough. I…have history with the corporations.”

“Atlas, wasn’t it?”

Trying not to look taken aback, Rhys nodded. “Yes, it was Atlas. But that was a long time ago.”

“I see.” Sitting back in his seat, Blake sniffed loudly. “No matter. What I came here to discuss with you has no ties to that. You see, there’s a bit of foul play going down at Hyperion. Several employees have gone missing from R&D in the middle of operational hours, and nobody seems to know where they’ve gone. Now, when I was asked to look into it myself, I figured they’d simply walked off the job. That is often the occurrence, especially in that department. When I checked the security footage and made my inquiries, however, it didn’t seem to be the case. They simply vanished.”

“Into thin air? Nobody just ups and disappears.”

“Don’t believe me, Mr. Strongfork? You’re welcome to come check for yourself.”

“Hold on. I haven’t even agreed to take the case yet.” Picking up his glass, Rhys took a tentative sip. “I need to run this by my partner first, see if she’s okay with it.”

“Oh, that probably won’t be necessary.”

“What? Of course it is.”

“I’m to offer you one hundred thousand credits each if you agree to this job. Half to be deposited in your accounts upon agreement, and half upon completion of your investigation.”

“I—what? That’s…that’s a lot of credits.”

“Precisely, Mr. Strongfork.” 

“I really should talk to her about things first….”

“I doubt any of your future clients could make even a quarter of my offer, and I won’t be asking you again if you decline. This is the only chance I’ll give you to take on this case, or I’ll simply take my business elsewhere.”

A sigh, deep and exasperated, escaped Rhys. He gulped down more liquor and wiped his mouth on the back of his arm where his sleeve was rolled up.

“Look, a hundred thousand credits is a lot of money, Mr. Blake. And I’m grateful for the offer. But I didn’t get where I am today without asking the right questions. So, why is Hyperion offering so much for us to look into what appears to be an open and shut case?”

There came a shrug from Blake so negligible and nonchalant that it barely seemed like movement at all. “Hyperion is a leader in technology, pioneers even. They want to ensure the best results come out of this situation, and they’re willing to pay the premiums for it. That’s simply all it is.”

“It seems almost _too_ simple, though.”

“Then, ah, here’s an idea: why don’t you and your partner come in the morning to investigate the scene for yourselves? Pre-business hours at Helios Tower, before anyone else arrives. Say, around five? You can have a look around, and then decide if you’d like to become more involved in the case. I think that would be fair, don’t you?”

“It’s short notice for my partner, but I think we could swing that.”

“Excellent.” Finally Blake smiled, the stretch of his lips across his face characterized by such a creeping slowness it was unnerving. “I’ll be waiting for your arrival in the lobby. Please, try not to be late. The R&D department starts particularly early, and we wouldn’t want to tread on anyone’s toes.”

“No, of course not. We’ll be there, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

“Just what I like to hear.” Blake stood, making the movement one fluid motion, like a cat stretching. “I’ll leave you to the rest of your evening. Have a good night, Mr. Strongfork.”

Rhys raised his glass in salute at the other man. “You as well, Mr. Blake,” he said, then reached for the phone on his desk.

XXX

That night, Rhys dreamed. He was standing in the office of the Atlas CEO, admiring the sleek, modern desk that would one day soon be is. He’d had such ambitions then, back when he was young and naive and had been on his way to receiving what should have rightly been his promotion to chief executive. But he’d played his cards too tightly to his chest, didn’t take quite enough risks, the co-workers that could smell his weakness nipping at his heels until one drew blood. Then it had all been over for him.

Now, instead of a rival sitting in the CEO’s chair, it housed Jeffrey Blake, his strange client. If possible, the man was even more uncanny as he sat there. His eyes glowed an unnatural golden that shone like stardust; his mouth was twisted cruelly, revealing a set of sharp, wicked teeth. When he rose, his bottom half was nothing but a swath of inky darkness. Long, blunt appendages emerged from it, twisting and coiling around themselves.

And Rhys, he was frozen in terror at the sight. Whatever this creature before him was, it was not benevolent. He could tell that much. The thing grinned at him and began to glide forward. The mouth gaped open, harsh consonants flaying at his ears.

_Ymg' ephaiah ep,_ it whispered to him from a throat that sounded full of silt and liquid. _Ymg shuggoth ephaijoin c' ph'nglui ahair'luh_

The creature was laughing, then; a grating sound that filled the room and made Rhys clap his hands over his ears. He closed his eyes, wincing, which only made the noises pierce through his skull even more.

Then Rhys was sitting up in bed, cold sweat peppering his heated skin as he attempted to disentangle himself from his comforter. He managed to kick it off and swing his legs over the side of the bed, his breath coming in pants.

It was a dream. 

It was just a dream.

One that had felt so vivid as to be real.

Rhys checked the clock and almost balked. It was a quarter to four in the morning. He had little time to pick up his partner and head down to Helios Tower. If he got changed swiftly, he’d probably make it. Quickly he poured through his wardrobe, pulling on a button-down shirt that was tailor made to accommodate his robotics, slacks, and a vest. He found his coat draped haphazardly across the back of the couch, and he shrugged into it, grabbing his car keys and wallet in the next heartbeat.

XXX

“This doesn’t seem right at all,” Fiona said from the passenger seat as she raised the paper cup of coffee in her hand to her lips and slurped. “The guy shows up after dark, claims to be from Hyperion, and offers to put fifty grand in our accounts each if we simply agree to take on the case. Then another fifty grand each if we _complete_ the case.”

“Hyperion does have that kind of money,” Rhys replied, sipping his own coffee as he guided the car to a parking spot in front of Helios Tower.

“Did you even ask to see any credentials?”

“I…well, I didn’t. But you have to understand how legit he seemed.”

Fiona snorted. “Guess I’ll make that call when I meet him myself. Also, you look like shit today. What’s up with you?”

The parallel park was tight, but Rhys managed it, maneuvering the vehicle into place with the guidance of his ECHOeye. Once he’d killed the engine, he sighed. “I had a weird dream last night. It was about Atlas.”

“Oh? I thought you stopped having nightmares about Atlas a long time ago.”

“I did. But this one wasn’t _entirely_ about Atlas. It involved the guy who wanted to hire us. He was all mutated and weird. And speaking this language to me that I couldn’t understand.”

With a purse of her lips, Fiona adjusted the brim of her hat and hummed. “Sounds even freakier than the guy himself,” she finally said. “You sure you want to go through with this? I mean, hell, it’s money. It’s _good_ money. Not yet convinced we should go poking our noses into the odd stuff these corporations get up to, though.”

“You’re welcomed to back out if you want. But, come on, we’re already at Helios and everything. Just having a look around can’t hurt.”

“Can’t it?” Fiona cocked an eyebrow and finished off her coffee, setting the empty cup on the dashboard. “We’ve been through a lot together, Rhys. I just got a bad feeling about this one.”

“So do I.” The door on the driver’s side opened with a creak as Rhys unlocked it. “You don’t see that stopping me.”

“That’s cos you’re half-idiot,” Fiona muttered under her breath as Rhys slipped out of the vehicle. He was halfway to Helios’ front entrance when she decided to join, walking at a brisk pace beside him. “Let’s just see what all this is about and get out of here.”

As he’d promised, Mr. Blake was waiting for them in the lobby. Rhys tried not to flinch at his presence. The dream from the night before was still vivid in his mind, Blake’s mouth crammed full of sharp teeth, his bottom half replaced by a nest of writhing appendages. Thankfully, the man standing before him looked nothing like that, dressed in a decidedly un-intimidating pinstriped wool suit and looking pale and serious. He greeted them at their approach.

“This is my partner, Fiona,” Rhys informed the man. “Fiona, Mr. Jeffrey Blake.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Blake said without emotion. “R&D is on a sub-level. We’ll take the elevator down.”

They rode the elevator in silence, Blake looking at neither Rhys nor Fiona as they descended. There was no music to break up the awkward silence, just the quiet hum of the elevator machinery before it dinged for their floor. They were released into a hallway, a door opposite painted in cautionary yellow and black and reading **DANGER: NO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL BEYOND THIS POINT**. Blake made short work of getting past it by sauntering up and placing his hand down on a control panel. There was the telltale _whoosh_ of air releasing, and the door rolled back, revealing vast industrial spaces beyond.

The giant terrarium was to their immediate left. There were grasses and bits of vegetation thriving within it, but Rhys thought he saw other things crawling around in there, peeking out from the flora. Blake gave no commentary on it, and Rhys and Fiona didn’t ask questions, so silence continued to dwell among their small group. Only when they passed another giant tank, this one for aquatic life, did Rhys break off a little to peer curiously at the interior.

“The lab is this way, Mr. Strongfork,” Blake called, stopping for a moment. “Please don’t harass the marine life.”

“I’m not. It’s just that—”

Suddenly, something smacked against the glass, the suction cups on the underside of its legs sticking fast to the surface. Many eyes peered back at Rhys, all glowing and golden. He thought he saw a mouth gape open, thought he saw rows upon rows of sharp teeth crowding its mouth.

“What the hell is that?” he demanded, jumping back.

“Just a hybrid of sorts,” Blake answered without losing his composure. “Something that R&D probably created. Perfectly harmless from your side of the glass.”

The eyes blinked, slowly and out of sync with each other. Feeling unnerved, Rhys tore his gaze away from the creature and went to join the others. They walked through the empty halls for a few minutes, Fiona ever on the alert, her eyes darting around her surroundings, Rhys just trying to make small talk with Blake. He asked about signs they passed, enclosures, even about the company itself. But Blake seemed reluctant to divulge him such information, merely shutting him down on more than one occasion.

At last, they came to a laboratory simply marked with the number three, Blake opening the door for them. Inside, it looked like someone had been deep in the throes of an experiment and had been plucked away in the middle of it. That was likely the case, considering the story Blake had given Rhys. One of the desks in the room was piled high with open books and endless stacks of paperwork, but that wasn’t what caught Rhys’ eye. In the middle of the desk, situated under a domed piece of glass, was an artifact. Without asking permission first, Rhys darted into the room and hovered over it, his mouth slightly agape at the sight. The artifact itself was split down the middle, formed into several broken pieces, the faintest of greenish glows coming from its core. 

Blake saw him hovering dramatically over it and started explaining. “That was the last thing Dr. West and Dr. Mason were working on before their disappearance. It had to do with the geological features of the local sea cavern system, if you must know. I believe that sample was extracted from Deadman’s Cave.”

“Deadman’s cave? That place is supposed to be cursed. Not that I…believe that.” Rhys gestured to the glass. “I might be able to get a reading on it if I scanned it with my cybernetics. May I?”

There was hesitation from Blake. Finally he said, “If you think it will help with the investigation, then by all means.”

His gaze locked on the glow, which seemed to pulse as if it possessed its own heartbeat, albeit a faint one, Rhys placed his fingers gingerly to either side of the dome and lifted. 

Fiona, on the other hand, was scoping out the room, her attention drawn to a pedestal in the corner where a thick tome lay open. Its pages were scrawled with foreign words and decorated in images painted in such dark red ink that it looked like dried blood. She saddled closer to try and read the words, but they were in some foreign tongue, unrecognizable. One hand settling on the page the book was opened to, she folded it closed and examined the cover. It was made of some tough leather, which had been weathered and deeply creased with age. There seemed to be no title or author, which only set Fiona’s jaw with grim determination.

“I’m taking this back to the office with us,” she announced, feeling compelled to not let go of said book now that it was in her possession. “Seems like it could be important. Besides, I want to see if I can translate these words, if that’s okay.” 

Rhys didn’t look up from his task, but Blake nodded at her, gesturing with long, thin fingers. He seemed to almost be smiling when he said, “By all means, take what you must. If it aids in the investigation, I won’t object.”

The glass dome now removed, Rhys set it aside and eyed the artifact before him. The faint green pulse seemed to brighten before his eyes, and for a moment, he felt a trickle of cold sweat on the back of his neck. His ECHOeye lit up with its own glow, scanning the pieces. The readout told him nothing that he wasn’t already aware of. The artifact had been carved from local rock, eroded from exposure to the ocean in the sea cave. Its age was unknown. Rhys picked up one of the portions and held it aloft, noticing that the grooves and markings were more than just erosion. They seemed to have been made on purpose, forming nightmarish figures with many eyes and teeth, and strange, runic letters.

“I’d need to integrate some kind of runic alphabet system into my software to read these,” he said to Fiona, who was approaching the desk, book tucked under one arm. “I guess we’re taking this as a souvenir as well.”

“Would you like to see the security footage now?” Blake asked.

They watched the security tapes, carefully combing through the timestamps where Blake claimed the scientists had disappeared. Neither Rhys nor Fiona could find anything out of the ordinary, and in the end they decided there was nothing to be garnered from the footage other than the fact Dr. West and Mason had indeed seemed to vanish without a trace.

Back in the office, Fiona sat on the couch with the strange book open in her lap, flipping through it page by page while Rhys had cleared a spot for the artifact on his desk. He set his ECHOeye to magnify, zooming in on the runic symbols and committing them to memory. When he went home that evening, he’d download an alphabetic system to a thumb drive and then upload it into his software via his port. For now, he merely studied the runes as closely as he could.

Fiona turned a page, a piece of note paper slipping out. She picked it up from where it landed beside her, surprised to find it was written in English. Part of the note was torn away, but one half was legible.

“…reverse the ritual,” she read aloud. “Speak the words as written in the cosmic hymn (page 108). **Do not** mispronounce the words, or you will unleash the presence instead of binding it.”

“What was that?” Rhys asked, looking up, his ECHOeye glowing a brilliant blue.

Rapidly turning through pages, Fiona reached the one she was looking for and raked her eyes over the words there. Again, the language was not familiar, but the script was legible enough. It wouldn’t be so hard a task to pronounce them as they appeared phonetically.

“ _Bestir thyself, o orr'e cahf ph'nglui n’chains cahf ymg' mgep long endured, ph'lloig ascent ph'nglui air ot lloigehye._ ”

“Er…I can’t understand that.”

“ _Ahornah ehyeog cahf yog uln l'ymg persuade ymg gn'bthnknyth, o sleeper ot r’lyeh._ ”

“Fiona?”

It was suddenly as if a cold draft had blown into the office, though the windows weren’t open. Rhys’ teeth chattered and he shivered. But Fiona seemed unaffected, rising from her seat, the book in her hands slapped close. For a moment, her eyes glowed a faint green, the same color of the artifact’s core. Then they returned to normal.

Rhys had to force himself to shut his gaping jaw. “Fiona?” he inquired again, but she turned away from him, heading toward the office door. “Where are you going?”

“To home; to the sea,” she answered in a deadpan without looking back at him. “The cavern in the sea where the city resides beneath the waves.”

“What are you even— _Deadman’s_ Cave?”

She didn’t reply. The door opened with a creak. She slipped out without another word, leaving Rhys frozen in his seat. He didn’t know how much time has passed, only that he couldn’t move, and when he could, he rushed to the door. But when he opened it, Fiona had already disappeared.

He had one lead and one lead only. 

Deadman’s Cave.

He supposed it was better than nothing.

XXX

Rhys was drowning.

No, that wasn’t right.

He was submerged in water, floating suspended somewhere in the darkened depths of the ocean. Despite that, despite the liquid filling his lungs and nostrils, he wasn’t drowning, nor was he struggling to breath. Bubbles formed above his head, trailing upward towards the surface, wherever that might be. The water itself was black as pitch, and when he waved his hand in front of himself, he could barely see it. 

Luckily, he didn’t seem to be sinking any further, bobbing weightlessly as if he were suspended in place by invisible thread. There seemed to be no other marine life around him, the ocean empty for all its vastness.

Suddenly, a golden glow was encompassing the vicinity. Rhys had to shield his eyes for the split second that it blazed as bright as if the ocean had swallowed the sun. When it dimmed, he looked, the breath (which he miraculously had) stolen away by the sight before him.

A cluster of enormous yellow eyes were staring at him, their dark pupils elliptical. Unblinking, one hovered closer to him, or maybe it was just an illusion of the water.

_Nafl'fhtagn_ a voice said in his head, sounding deep and ancient. _Hafh c' na'ah'ehye_

Rhys winced, the words echoing, growing louder instead of fainter, carving into his mind. Immediately he had a splitting headache, the water around him blossoming with blood. He tried to scream, but only muffled, watery sounds emerged from his throat. 

He awoke lying on a flat piece of rock, the sounds of ocean waves crashing against the shoreline in the distance. Groaning, he immediately reached up to his head, his fingers coming away red and sticky. Even without the blood to worry about, the room seemed to be turning slightly. Someone must have struck him and knocked him out at some point.

As if answering his unvoiced questions, a robed and hooded figure appeared above him. In their hands, they carried a stone bowl. Rhys could hear them chanting something under their breath, but couldn’t make out the words. He thought he caught a glimpse of blond hair from beneath the hood.

“Come here,” the robed figure told someone that wasn’t directly in Rhys’ line of sight, and he recognized that voice, that stoic deadpan. “He must drink from the blood of the ancients before you proceed. Only then will his mind and body be open to becoming the vessel.”

“M-Mr. Blake?” Rhys breathed out, his throat hoarse and aching as if he’d been screaming for hours. 

“Do it quickly,” the figure said. “He’s too lucid in this state.”

Another robed figure came into view, this one shorter and slighter. They took the bowl from their partner, crouching down beside Rhys with it in their grasp. He saw the face under the hood then, the stripe of crimson in their hair, and had to bite back a gasp.

“Fiona, what are you doing?” he questioned, trepidation in his voice. The bowl hovered closer to him. He tried to put his hand up to push it away, but his limbs felt heavy and uncoordinated. 

She lay her hand upon his forehead. In his state, it was easy to keep him from squirming that way. The bowl was placed against his lips and tipped forward. A coppery film washed over his tongue, tasting also of the sea, and something old and wizened. Rhys gagged, trying to spit it back up, but it was futile. The liquid spilled down his throat to pool in the depths of his stomach. 

Eventually Fiona pulled away and Rhys lay there writhing on the stone, his hands clutching at his midsection. He groaned and tried to call out to her, but couldn’t seem to form the words. There was a strange sensation coiling in his gut; an icy coldness that seemed to be spreading through him, organ by organ, cell by cell. He felt submerged under water, like in his dream, only the waters were arctic. His hands curled into claws, scraping at empty air. He could feel the hairs standing up on the back of his neck, that chill making him shiver from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his head.

And then, abruptly, the sensation stopped. The world around him seemed to be glowing faintly, everything shimmering with light. He reached out and tried to touch the bursts of illumination in front of him, was disappointed when they turned out to be his mind playing tricks on him. Rhys felt calm, though, even…good. It was as if some divine force had blanketed him in its soothing embrace. He smiled at nothing, his body no longer feeling the hard and craggy rock beneath him, but the sensation of floating. 

“I believe he’s ready,” came Blake’s voice again. “I’ll be here to guide you, should you need it.”

In the quiet that followed, Rhys could hear the sound of water dripping off the nearby stalactites and hitting the cave floor, thinking it sounded beautiful. Hands were fumbling at his clothing, now, unbuttoning his shirt. Instead of pushing them away, he welcomed them, liking the kiss of air against his bare chest. Fingers were tracing his tattoo, and he hummed softly with pleasure as they slid his sleeves down his arms. First the tattooed one, then the other. Off came his vest with the shirt. The hands were working at his pants now, and he felt so light, so without burden that he didn’t even care that they were being worked down his legs. His shoes were removed along with the pants. He was left lying in nothing but his boxer shorts. There was some hesitation, but eventually those were removed as well, leaving him stark naked. 

It didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, he did nothing to hide his nudity, laying there with his breath coming slow and even. Every time he breathed out, it was like expelling all the worries and anxieties in his head. 

Beside him, Fiona straighted up. Her hands fumbled with her robe, pulling back the hood, unfastening the closures. She opened it to reveal that she was wearing a meager slip underneath that came to about mid-thigh. Stepping out of sight, she was gone for a bit, coming back into Rhys’ vision a moment later carrying what at first looked like a carved figurine. It was made of something that resembled jade, or maybe _was_ jade, and carved into the shape of a squid with coiling tentacles. On closer inspection, Rhys realized it was a phallus. A particularly large one, and that Fiona seemed to have some vial filled with an unidentified liquid as well.

Try as he might, Rhys couldn’t work up the anxiety those factors should have invoked, his mind feeling pleasantly numb to them. Fiona lifted the hem of her slip until she was pulling it entirely off, revealing her nude body and the contraption she wore on her hips. It was all straps and buckles, secured around the flesh of her thighs. She threaded the phallus through the front part, where there was a hole for such, the tentacles at its base unfurling of their own accord, animatedly locking it into place as they wrapped around her legs as well. 

It must’ve been a trick of the light, Rhys thought to explain it to himself. Or some kind of advanced contraption of sorts.

Fiona spread Rhys’ legs apart, and he allowed her, not even considering resisting. Where she touched him, warmth and heat blossomed, exploding outward until it was all encompassing. He felt cool liquid dripping along the crevice of his ass and realized she’d tipped some of the vial’s contents on to him. He shivered, feeling the churning emotions building in him like a tsunami. He wanted this, wanted her to bury the strange phallus deep inside of him, send his insides melting. The rest of the vial was poured on to the strap-on until it was coated in a glistening sheen.

Then Fiona was moving, guiding herself into position. She looked down at him, their gazes meeting. Rhys stared into the depths of her pupils, thinking he could see the very stars within them, all the cosmos at once, burning like fire on the night ocean. He yearned to be a part of that world, wanted it with all his being. Sitting upward, his mouth met Fiona’s, and he tasted not only the salt of the sea, but the flavor of time and space, tangy and sizzling with life on his tongue.

Locked like that, she slipped the head of the strap-on inside him. Rhys’ breath hitched against Fiona’s mouth, his muscles clenching for half of a second before the tension loosened. His mouth fell away from her’s and he laid back, sighing as she pushed inside him even deeper. 

As Rhys groaned out at a particularly sharp thrust, a voice filled the chamber; Blake’s.

_C' ymg' goka cahff ehyee vulgtmorr ot orr'e, o h' ahf' slumbers.  
H' ahf' mgep fhtagn gn'th,  
l' cahf ymg' ahornah nafl'fhtagn,  
ng ahuh'eog ph' c' Iiahe ymg' ph'nglui mgepah mgepogor chtenfff_

The words were deep, guttural, the consonants clashing like two combatants fighting with swords. They echoed in Rhys’ head, ringing in his soul in waves that didn’t stop coming. His cock throbbed to the rhythm of each, stiffening even more than it already was. Fiona rolled her hips, pushing most of the strap-on inside of him. It was hard, unyielding. He felt something gripping at his flesh and looked down to see the tentacles had come alive again, were coiling around his thighs. Moans filled the air, emerging from both his and Fiona’s mouths. 

_Nafl'fhtagn, o dreamer, ng bless shuggog ymg' 'bthnk_

Their pace increased, Fiona slamming into Rhys, both of them shuddering with the impacts. They panted, first in opposition, slowly growing more and more synchronized. The world seemed to swirl around them, darkening, swallowing them, until they were the only two people that mattered in the universe. Uncoordinated as his movements were, Rhys reached up, his hands locking on to Fiona’s waist. Her skin felt feverish, as if she would combust at any moment. 

There came more chants from Blake, but the words were drowned out by the pounding of blood in Rhys’ ears. He could feel the strap-on hitting his prostate every time Fiona thrust forward, and it made him howl with pleasure, the sound bouncing wildly off the walls of the cave. Fiona leaned down, kissed him again, her tongue invading his mouth, exploring with abandon. He entwined his own tongue around it, feeling connected on a level that he’d never experienced with another human being before. He could feel a rift open somewhere, someplace, like the very fabric of the universe was tearing open.

And something…something was coming through.

Rhys’ eyes went wide. 

Fiona bit him then. Just his bottom lip, but he felt as well as smelled the blood welling up. Distracting him, she gave a few shallow thrusts. His body writhed and clenched, and that’s when he knew he was past the point of no return.

Without even being touched, he was cumming on himself, splatters of white painting his stomach and chest. His cock pulsed and twitched, dancing with his gasping breaths. Fiona thrust into him a few more times, picking up speed with each movement, until a strangled cry emerged from her throat and her body stiffened.

For some time, they just lay like that, locked together, staring off into the void. Rhys’ body felt like hardening cement, unable to move, getting stiffer by the moment. Fiona had to pry his hands from her waist, but even she seemed to have trouble moving, pulling the phallus out of him so slowly that his muscles seized up again and it was almost painful.

Suddenly at Fiona’s side was Blake. He helped her get her wobbly legs underneath her, draping her robe across her shoulders.

“Very good, Fiona.”

“Did…did it work?” she asked, her voice gravelly, groggy. “Is he…? 

“You did an excellent job. The sleeper shall be pleased with your contribution. Now, we must wait.”

XXX

The sand was soft beneath Rhys’ feet, pliable. His toes sunk down into it with each step, making it difficult to keep his balance, legs still trembling with aftershocks. Slowly, he made his way down the beach, guided by the light of the full moon, the others waiting for him at the far end. They stood in a semi-circle around a pillar that came up to waist high, carved into the shape of a person, only their features were twisted, resembling an aquatic being. In her robe, Fiona came forward, holding the artifact that Rhys had taken form the lab at Helios Tower. In the darkness, it glowed a brilliant nuclear green, and she set it down atop the pillar.

At some point, Rhys realized he was nude, but couldn’t bring himself to care. It felt as if his body were not his at all, filled with liquid where the muscles should be, moving of its own accord. He reached the small group and embraced each of them. There was Dr. West and Dr. Mason, the hoods of their robes taken off one at a time. Then Jeffrey Blake, who gave a courteous bow when Rhys removed his hood for him. Lastly Fiona, who might’ve held on to him for more than a heartbeat. Before he could pull away from her, she kissed him, whispered words in his head about the stars falling from the sky, the world expanding until it burst like rotten fruit. He smiled at her and turned to the artifact, fitting the broken pieces back together.

With fresh eyes, he read the inscription written on the artifact aloud, saying the words with perfect pronunciation. Not a consonant or vowel was misread. It was as if he’d been reborn with the words on his tongue. 

Beneath the moon, the ocean waves began to rise. Higher and higher they climbed, till the black of the ocean melded with the inky darkness of the sky, becoming one mass.

The wave parted, bowed to either side, its middle half swathed in pure darkness; a spectral kind of doorway.

And from its depths, something like a mass of tentacles was emerging. 

The figures on the beach dropped to their knees, heads bowed in deference.

All except Rhys, who opened his arms wide in greeting, the tentacles twining around him, slithering over his body.

Overcoming him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me over on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/MorteAmore)


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